


And Back Again

by clutzycricket



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dimension Travel, F/M, Post Winter Finale, Rumbelle Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-20
Updated: 2013-12-20
Packaged: 2018-01-05 06:04:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1090492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clutzycricket/pseuds/clutzycricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For I'm-Not-A-What on tumblr, for the Rumbelle Secret Santa. Belle finds a magical candle, beginning a slightly meandering trip to bring her True Love home. With a complication, of course...</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Back Again

“Well,” Ragnell said wryly, looking at the disaster area that had previously been her workshop, “that tells us a few things.”

“That I shouldn’t trust you when you swear you are only performing a harmless little spell?” her husband said, just as dry as his wife. There was a scratch running down his cheek, and Belle handed his the minty ointment without a word. “Thank you.”

“That your laddie-me-love is alive and well,” Ragnell said quietly, dark eyes meeting Belle’s blue ones. Belle felt a bit like the world had just tilted, or perhaps had stopped tilting. “Also, that we have more problems.”

“Ah, well, I expected that,” the knight shrugged, before looking at something and picking it up. “Did you release it, or did you just reveal it?”

Ragnell beamed up at him. Really, they were an unlikely pair- the sardonic, trickster sorceress and the good-tempered, if scatterwitted, knight. “Revealed it- he didn’t react kindly to me throwing light on where he was hiding. It was an old spirit, one who wears multiple guises.”

“He looked like something out of Storybrooke,” Gawain said thoughtfully. “The one from one of the holidays.”

“Santa Claus,” Belle agreed. “He distributes presents to children- Grace told me about him.” She looked around, at the hoofmarks on the stone floor, where a braided rug dotted with acid stains had been pushed into a pile. “Though that image didn’t have hooves and horns.

Ragnell nodded, twin braids flopping about. “Right- there are many pluralities, many faces of one concept- Santa Claus, Father Christmas being near mirrors, Saint Nicholas having a slightly different slant. This one is closer to the stories of a being called Krampus.”

Gawain gave a start. “Him I’ve heard of. He eats children, doesn’t he?”

“I read about him,” Belle said thoughtfully. It had been in an illuminated manuscript in the Dark Castle library- a devilish man with horns and crimson eyes. “He takes away wicked children, though the legend is a bit difficult to parse. But he hasn’t been heard from in…” she let out a rueful chuckle. “Three hundred years. Rumple needs to learn to think things through, sometimes.” At Gawain’s questioning look, she explained. “Rumplestiltskin became the Dark One three hundred years ago…”

“To protect his son,” he finished.

“And end the Duke’s use of child soldiers when he had the Dark One at his command,” Belle added.

“Hmm, Regina could probably bind him if she felt up to acting on her desire for redemption,” Ragnell said, swiping some of the balm for her hands. “Jennet Laine and her husband could slay him, or even Iason- no pouting, he isn’t that helpless, for all you swore he was.” She tilted her head. “Medea, perhaps. Erceldoune's prophet could tell the Charmings how, provided they actually chose to listen.”

“You could,” Belle pointed out. Ragnell grinned at that.

“Darling Belle, I create illusions and work scrying spells. Binding something like that…” she tilted her head. “I could create something, true, but I haven’t the faintest clue as to how to chase him through _worlds_. Hatter might know.”

“What’s this?” Gawain picked up a shape from the corner, to Ragnell’s muttered comments about untrained puppies.

It was a candle, about a foot long, made of black wax streaked with silver and crimson.

“How many miles to Babylon?” Ragnell asked her workshop. “Threescore and ten.”

“What?” Belle asked.

“A Babylon candle- they aren’t native to this world, and are a bit tricky to work, but if you know how to use them, you could go anywhere,” Ragnell said, plucking it out of Gawain’s hands. “I suppose that Krampus dropped it when he came through- a bizarre mixture of need and the fact that he is, however disturbingly, a gift-giver.”

“I could find Rumple, then?” Belle looked at the candle, glad her friend’s curious “what the hell, that makes no fucking sense” hadn’t been derailed.

“Well, yes,” Ragnell said, handing her the candle. “And bring him back- the full verse mentions that it’ll take you to your destination and back.”

“Can I use it now?” Belle asked, wincing at how impatient she sounded.

Ragnell laughed. “Of course, of course. Focus on your lover, since I doubt Krampus is going to leave him alone for long.”

The candle lit, and her friends faded away, leaving Belle a bit guilty she hadn’t thought to ask if they needed help cleaning up.

~

Belle landed in a pile of hay, sputtering. Travel had blown out the candle, thankfully, and Belle truly hoped that Rumple was nearby, since she thought she would need it lit to travel anywhere.

“Where am I?” she mused. Not at Inglewood Tower, obviously, or anywhere near the river nearby.

“Belle?” Rumple said, sounding tired. “Am I hallucinating again?”

Belle launched herself at him, pleased to see him. (Even if he had scales again.) “You’re alive, oh, Rumple, Ragnell said it but I didn’t want to believe because what if she was wrong…”

“How long have you been searching?” he asked, guilt coming out again.

“About five minutes,” she smiled up at him. “Ragnell wanted to see what on earth you did to defeat Peter Pan, because it made no sense to her, and then Krampus came out of the mirror, and there was a Babylon Candle, so I wanted to find you.”

“Right, I always knew Ragnell was insane,” he muttered. “She married the dolt, after all.”

Belle giggled. “So, where are we?”

“Imprisoned in a dungeon that blocks my magic,” he answered, brushing a stray lock of hair off her face. He came away with straw twirling between his fingers. “You’re real.”

“I am really me, grace and all,” Belle teased.

“And yet you can sprint in those heels,” he mused. “Did you by any chance have a fairy godmother?”

“Perhaps,” Belle said with a straight face, surveying the room. She’d landed in a pile of hay she supposed served as his bed, with a slop pail in the opposite corner and the plain remains of a meal by the door. Not the worst dungeon, but not the best, either. “Can you light the candle?”

“Yes,” he said, fluttering his hands. “The candle worked the first time, after all, though we might hit the wrong destination.”

“Of course,” Belle smiled as he gripped the candle, and the cell spun away.

~

They landed somewhere that also wasn’t Inglewood Tower, skidding onto a dark, where there was a field of white and toasted surface.

“Mellow Marsh,” Rumplestiltskin explained. “Apparently someone decided to toast it.”

“That seems… not entirely silly,” Belle said thoughtfully. “We still aren’t in the Enchanted Forest, though.”

“True,” Rumplestiltskin admitted, “though it could be worse. Cora could still be here, which would be… an awkward conversation, with a very abrupt ending.” He gave her a flickering smile. “Let’s try again?”

~

Two jumps later, Belle was starting to get suspicious. “At least there is a castle this time.”

“Why wouldn’t there be a castle?” a boy asked from behind them. “Hogwarts has been here for centuries, after all.”

“Because Ragnell’s version of ‘a bit tricky’ is anyone else’s impossible,” Belle answered without thinking. She’d never done that half as much before meeting Rumplestiltskin. “And so our way home is a bit complicated. Have you seen a tall devil man with horns?”

The boy, who was taller than both of them and perhaps sixteen, shook his head. “No, but should I keep an eye out?”

Belle gave him a sympathetic look. He looked exhausted, poor lad, and sick to boot. His brown hair was a bit shaggy and there were circles under his eyes. “Possibly. He steals misbehaving children, and kicks like a mule.”

“I should warn my friends, then,” he said with a look Belle was well familiar with- fondness, exasperation, and worry in equal measure.

“That would be best, yes,” Rumplestiltskin said without his customary dramatics. He looked as he did in Storybrooke, scales hidden and in one of his perfect suits. “Are you alright, lad?”

“Mmm, we just had a fight- Sirius did something spectacularly stupid, and needs time to realize how badly he handled the situation,” he said, shaking his head. “Timing was just horrible.”

Rumple looked at him. “I’ve met people with that sort of timing problem before…” he offered after a moment.

The boy tensed.

“Want to make a deal?” Rumple asked. Belle looked at him in disbelief and a bit of bafflement.

“What sort of deal?” the boy asked, suspicion dripping from his words.

“Well, an open favor,” he smiled at Belle, who was still looking disapproving. Yes, all magic had its costs, and yes, Rumple made them clear and it made sense for those who wanted the magic to pay the price, but this was verging on too far.  “Or perhaps food and drink. Or promise of shelter for my lady, here, if the problematic beastie we face manages to get his revenge on me while we’re here. Or both.”

“I’m not…” he frowned. “I could maybe talk to Professor Dumbledore.”

“That’ll do,” Rumplestitskin said, flapping his hands. “Can I see your cloak?”

Belle beamed, catching onto what he was doing as smoke covered the slightly worn cloak, strengthening it and adding more embroidery. Rumplestiltskin gave the boy a detailed explanation for the cloak’s use, complete with hand gestures.

“Is there food you can spare?” Belle asked hopefully. The gloomy, overrun aspect of the forest and the boy’s worn clothes made her careful in her speech- large drafty castles like the one before them could be expensive to upkeep, and pride made families do strange things sometimes.

He gave her a bemused look. “Er, yes, the house elves can prepare a meal. Its past dinner, though, so they might fuss over you a bit. Shouldn’t be too many students about, though, unless McGonagall really did assign the third years the paper she was threatening them with.”

“Thank you,” Belle said. “Though we didn’t catch your name?”

“Remus Lupin,” he said after a moment.

“I’m Belle, and this is Rumplestiltskin,” she replied, “shall we go in?”

Rumplestiltskin later joked that he needed to find a way to bottle the persuasive force of her smile, because he found them a secluded alcove while they warmed themselves and enjoyed a meal in peace.

~

The next jump involved Belle landing in water, which was not how she wanted it to go, and ending up half buried in sand.

She flailed her way to stand in the knee-high water, glaring at Rumplestiltskin, who was holding the candle and looked unruffled. “Practice makes perfect?” she asked plaintively.

He shook his head after a pause, eyes wide. “What? Err, yes, dear.”

Belle looked at him suspiciously. “What are you looking…” She followed his eyes downwards. Hmm, this fabric was more prone to clinging when wet then she thought.

“I’ll use magic to dry you off,” he promised sheepishly, offering his arm as they walked to shore.

“Cleaning spells tickle,” Belle wrinkled her nose and hiding a grin at how twitchy he looked right now.

Then there was a roar, long and loud and reverberating in Belle’s bones.

“That _fucking lion_ ,” Rumplestiltskin growled, and lit the candle.

~

The world was black and white and shades of grey, and a familiar face was watching them in amusement. “Hello, Belle.”

“Victor!”Belle bounced up and hugged the scientist. “We have a problem.”

“If your problem had horns, not anymore,” Victor said, looking a bit sickly. “The Count ran across him, and… I didn’t realize there is magic in this world.” Belle reflected that Ragnell had said the only problem was in finding Krampus.

“Well, yes, since travel to this world was possible without the curse,” Rumplestiltskin said, watching the nearest staircase. “Would you have a spare room in this castle of yours?”

“Will you help me deal with my houseguest?” the scientist asked, looking a bit hopeful and resigned. Belle thought it must be a common enough expression when dealing with Rumplestiltskin.

“Of course,” he said, “now, what is his name?”

~

“We could have gone home, Ragnell and Gawain must be worried sick.” Belle watched as a partially undressed Rumplestiltskin put yet more spells around the door, window, walls, floor, ceiling… “Do you want to cover the mirror as well?”

Her skirts flew over the mirror on the nightstand.

“Do you know, this might be the first proper alone time we have had in thirty years?” he asked plaintively. “When we return to the castle, we’ll perhaps have an hour before I am besieged by pleas for aid.”

Probably less, Belle mused, thinking about Neal’s story on how Robin Hood had taken over the castle. “We were able to sleep, at least, though I see your point. It was very kind of Victor to offer us a room.”

“Well, considering his previous houseguest,” Rumplestiltskin mused, “we probably seem like a dream come true.”

“I have several dreams I would like to have come true right now,” Belle told him in as frank a tone she could manage while blushing to her navel.

It did banish all coherent conversation until morning, though.

**Author's Note:**

> 1.) The poem is  
> "How many miles to Babylon?  
> Three score miles and ten.  
> Can I get there by candle-light?  
> Yes, and back again.  
> If your heels are nimble and light,  
> You may get there by candle-light."  
> Babylon Candles are used by a few authors, most notably Neil Gaiman and Seanan McGuire.  
> 2.) The Count is Count Dracula. Yup, I went there. The lion is Aslan, because the joke was too good to pass up.  
> 3.) Ragnell and Gawain are from "The Wedding of Sir Gawain and Dame Ragnell", because hello, they have a Lancelot, what are two more Arthurian characters? (Also, Belle needs friends.) Iason is an off-the-cuff reference to DC Comics' Jason Blood, and Erceldoune's prophet is Thomas Learmonth the rhymer.


End file.
